Snippets and Splinters
by sveltern
Summary: A collection of drabbles, ranging in both length and genre. I make no guarantee on when updates will be, but I would expect one every one or two weeks. Critique is welcome, along with suggestions/prompts.
1. for a moment

**Characters: **Lloyd, Colette

**Rating/Warnings: **K; mentions of Zelloyd.

* * *

"Hey, Lloyd?"

A drifting, lilting voice; curiously sweet with a bitter pang woven into the aftertaste.

"Yeah, Colette?"

"I... Why do you... Why Zelos?"

An eyebrow lifts, a brow creases. There is no answering voice for a long moment, and both figures sit in utter silence. Breathing is not permitted.

"Colette, I'm sorry."

"N-no, it's fine, I just... I still..."

A sturdy arm reaches out and settles gently on quaking shoulders, brushing soft blonde hair aside. They do not face the other; words are exchanged in hushed, hummingbird voices, flitting out between their knotted tongues and tight lips.

"...I love him."


	2. home

**Characters: **Lloyd

**Rating/Warnings: **K; no warnings.

* * *

"Dad?"

Goddess, even the smell seems both heartbreaking and rejuvenating. After spending so much time traveling from city to city, forest to forest, ranch to ranch, world to world — the simple log-and-moss-wrought house seems a sight for sore eyes. For once, Lloyd doesn't mind the smallness of it, the melancholy feel of his mother's grave.

"Ah, m'boy! What is it you be needin'?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just..." A simple flick of the hand, a blush creeping up his neck. "...I'm home."


	3. vengeance

**Characters: **Kratos, (dead)Kvar

**Rating/Warnings: **T; angst, violence, slight spoilers.

* * *

_Kvar._

He's been waiting the past fifteen years for this moment — _fifteen years_.

He stands by his son in the despicable half-elf's room, the constant buzzing of flashing machinery invading his brain. Why is everyone _talking_? He didn't come here to socialize and discuss evil plans and whatever the hell else. He's here for one simple reason: revenge.

He steps up, makes everything stop. Watches the smile curve slowly across Kvar's wretched face. Slitted eyes smirk, glinting dangerously. Dare. _I dare you_.

He does not hesitate.

His sword slashes, at first lightly, across the chest of Kvar; another strike — and another, and another — follows, each tearing deeper into the flesh of the damned half-elf.

At last the sick murderer collapses. He lies in a pool of his own blood, previously pristine clothes and carefully-slicked hair lying in crimson disarray.

Kratos does not breathe for a long moment. His words, spoken out of pure, unadulterated hatred, ring loud and strong in his head.

_Feel the pain of those inferior beings as you burn in hell._

Oh, how he wishes for more blood.


	4. with the coming of a storm

**Characters: **Yuan

**Rating/Warnings: **T; mentions of discrimination, etc.

* * *

The morning looks bleak.

The sky is an ugly shade of gray, clouds spreading thicker and thicker in metallic sheets across the usually-blue expanse. The wind comes in great gusts, tangling everybody's hair and turning them right around into confusion. Wind-chimes crack into each other with loud, hollow thunks, ripped quite suddenly of their normal, whimsical music.

A storm's coming, everyone in the town can tell; it's that season, after all. Roughly two weeks before the leaves on the trees begin to change, storms — thunder, lightning, wind — wreak havoc on the little village, throwing many of the roofs to shambles and causing many of the inhabitants to take shelter in the old caves.

Nobody complains, though. The weather has been like this for as long as anyone can remember, and that's that.

A young man, perhaps in his early twenties, stands in the back corner of the cave with his head tucked low to his chest and a cape wrapped tightly around his thin frame. If not for his bright teal-blue hair, he would seem to melt entirely into the shadows.

People in town seem to avoid him. It isn't overt, but it is noticeable: how they all give him a fairly wide birth, the way they speak to him — short, quick replies, almost edging away from entering a conversation — even the way they stand around him. There is something about this man that makes people uncomfortable, and he's well aware of what it is.

Being a half-elf is, in his words, rather unfortunate.

But he considers himself lucky, in a way. The people of his town don't hit him or abuse him or, now that he thinks about it, punish him any worse than they might someone of their own, pure-blooded human race. Anywhere else, he knows, he would be much worse off.

Even then...

There are some lines that have been engraved for generations. They cannot be crossed, they cannot be rewritten, they cannot be ignored. Even if people strove to get along with other races, there will always be that same discomfort, that wary instinct prickling at the backs of their necks. Being honest, the niceties are an act; everybody knows they don't mean a thing. People are afraid of the unknown — they always have been, and chances are, they always will be.

Yuan knows this.

He's accepted it.

And, if he's still being honest, he hates it.


	5. a day in the life

**Characters: **Yuan

**Rating/Warnings: **K; no warnings, really.

* * *

Yuan is tired of running — he tells himself, time and time again, that he'll face up to his fears one day, but every time another angry human catches up to him, he tells himself something else: today is just not that day.

So, with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the young half-elf finds himself running once more.

Houses blur by, melded with the both surprised and grim faces of the villagers he barely knows. Slowly, painfully, brick housing gives way to log, and then melts into forestry.

With the change of scenery also comes a refreshing wave of relief, washing over him and teasing a tired, half-hearted smile from his lips.

Just another day in the life of a half-elf.

You get used to it.


	6. monster

**Characters: **Zelos, Lloyd

**Rating/Warnings: **K+; mild spoilers, angst

* * *

"Hey, Bud -"

The redhead speaking was met with a slap, his so-called "Bud" glaring and utterly pissed.

"Don't call me that, Zelos," he snapped. He was gripping his twin swords so tightly that his knuckles faded to white.

Regardless, Zelos didn't seem to notice. "Bud, what's wrong -"

"Idiot!" Lloyd cried. "Such an idiot..."

Zelos reached out and grabbed Lloyd's shoulder, trying to get the swordsman to face him. Instead the brunette just shrugged him off, a faint growl rising in his throat.

"Just... no. Don't touch me," he muttered, his tone promising much pain if he was to be disobeyed.

The ex-Chosen stared dumbly as Lloyd turned even farther away, back rigid and hands still clasped tightly around his blades.

"...Lloyd," Zelos said hesitantly, "this wouldn't have anything to do with, ah, Kratos, would it?"

"What do you care?" was the reply.

The redhead thought for a moment. "What if I told you I was worried about you?"

This was met with silence.

"Look, Lloyd." Zelos paused for a brief moment, thinking about how to phrase the next part. "I know you... trusted him. I know you did. And I know how hard it is to... to realize your father isn't -"

"My chest hurts," Lloyd interrupted.

"I - what?"

"My chest... hurts. My heart. My brain."

Zelos had nothing to say, overwhelmed by the sudden remembrance of watching his mother die. He knew what Lloyd meant, about his chest hurting. He also knew that the feeling wouldn't go away anytime soon.

He said nothing, and Lloyd walked away.

Both were left with a pain in their hearts and a burning hatred for the monster they used to call Lloyd's father.


End file.
